


We Are Found

by queeniegalore



Series: One of Two Words [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Collars, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, Light Puppy Play, Light breathplay, M/M, Puppy Play, Threesomes, accidental scene, but not actually having sex, light boot worship, light humiliation kink, slightest subdrop, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-04 20:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16353950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniegalore/pseuds/queeniegalore
Summary: "Let them take care of you, pup."Rylen passes the care of Cullen over to Bull and Dorian, who take the responsibility rather more seriously than Cullen was expecting. Bull wants to talk, Dorian has exactly one thing on his mind, and Cullen is no good at any of it.





	1. Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is just 4000 words of kink negotiation, because Bull Be Like That. Probably will make a tonne more sense if you read Oh, The Stars Were Made for Us first. Chapter 2 is in the works!

“So, _puppy dog_ ,” Dorian started, as Cullen took his first sip of his third glass of wine, settled into an armchair in Bull and Dorian’s suite as they lounged on their bed watching him. “Is that just a rather adorable endearment or are you going to get on your hands and knees and _bark_ for us?”

Through Andraste’s grace alone, Cullen managed to neither spit the wine out nor choke on it. 

“ _Dorian_ ,” Bull mumbled reproachfully. “Let the man drink.”

“Yes, do,” Cullen said faintly, and hesitated for just a moment before downing the rest of the glass, just in case Dorian decided to say anything else.

He didn’t, just smirked to himself as he took a delicate sip of his own wine, humming approvingly at the taste. Cullen was already light-headed, the mountain air, the wine a little stronger than what he’d been drinking in the Approach, the company. His face was warm, seated as he was next to a fire that Bull and Dorian kept roaring, and he’d left his armour in his loft.

In more ways, he thought, than one.

“It’s...well,” he started, voice soft and stammering. “I suppose before anything it was just a, uh, a Fereldan thing. Ser - _Rylen_ is Starkhaven born and bred, and when we met he thought I was terribly Fereledan. You know what they think of us in the Marches.”

“Dog lords,” Bull said with a smile. “So you were a little Fereldan pup, then?”

Cullen’s laugh was nervous. “Oh, I suppose so. I suppose I still am.”

“Not so little,” Dorian put in, winking, and Cullen looked away in embarrassment. Not for the first, or third, or fiftieth time that night, he had to ask himself - _what was he doing here_?

~

Back at the Approach, the morning after they’d heard him with Rylen, Bull and Dorian had laughed gently at him for a minute before Bull clapped him on the arm. His secret was safe with them, they told him, and they’d never speak of it again if that was what he wanted. Cullen hadn’t even been able to raise his head from the table, too filled with mortification, and then Dorian had added that if he _wanted_ however, they’d be happy to speak with him about it at length, over wine, back at Skyhold.

Sweet Maker but even then the idea had intrigued him.

“Let them take care of you pup,” Rylen suggested later, softly, as they were saying their goodbyes. And then sternly to Bull as they made to ride out: “Can I trust you to see to the lad?”

Cullen had hoped for a varghest nest most of the way home. “Of course you can,” Bull had replied. “If he wants us to.”

_If he wants us to._

Cullen hadn’t said a word, either at breakfast or on the ride back to Skyhold. He was Rylen’s. What he and Rylen did in the privacy of their rooms was no one’s business but their own. He didn’t… And Bull and Dorian were together anyway, it was ridiculous, where would he even fit? What would they do with _him_? No, they were teasing, but they’d forget it, forget him, and he’d go back to longing for Rylen’s touch alone, and trying to fuck himself sweet enough to make it feel anywhere near as good.

_Let them take care of you, pup_.

It had sounded like an instruction. 

And then had come the invitation for wine, and the understanding that an acceptance to this _particular_ invitation would be an acceptance to...well. See where things went.

“We told Rylen we’d look after you, Cullen. That can mean whatever you want it to mean, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what _he_ meant when he said it.”

“I don’t...I’ve never with anyone but…”

“ _Just_ talking. That’s all we want, tonight. Yeah? Wine and conversation.” And Bull had leaned in close, Dorian at his side looking at him with narrowed, interested eyes. “Do you think you can do that for us, Cullen?”

Something in the way Bull said his name, couple with the way Dorian tilted his head and smiled…

“What, what time should I be there?”

And he was, of course, lost.

~

Dorian poured Cullen more wine, which he took gratefully. “I’m not good at this part,” he admitted, gaze skittering off them both in turn and then into the fire. “I apologise.”

“The talking?” Bull asked, at the same time as Dorian snorted, “the flirting?”

Cullen chuckled. “Yes. Both. Is that what this is, then?”

“It's what you want it to be,” Bull said gently. “Dorian...is getting ahead of himself.”

Dorian huffed. “Well excuse me for being eager. You were there that night, Bull. You heard.”

Cullen drew a hand over his face. “Ah, that. Again, I apologise. The walls...were not as thick as I had hoped.”

“Oh, no, don’t apologise on our behalf,” Bull leered. “Free night’s entertainment.”

“Certainly was inspiring,” Dorian added, and pressed closer to Bull’s side. _“Please, ser, oh please fuck me, oh-!_ ”

A passable impression, Cullen thought, through the slight haze of drink and embarrassment, though a little overwrought.

“Is that what I sound like, then? Maker.”

“Mmmm. So you’ll have to forgive me for being _eager_ ,” here Dorian shot Bull a look, “to see if you’ll make those sounds for _us_.”

Cullen found his courage, gripped it with both hands, and only stuttered a little as he looked away from the fire to reply. “I rather thought that was why I was here,” he said, thinking of Rylen’s approving face as he did. “Unless I’ve vastly misunderstood.”

“Oh, you certainly haven’t,” Dorian purred, leaning forward to fix him with an intense gaze. He was, Cullen thought, unfairly beautiful, predatory, dangerous. _Mage_ , his subconscious reminded him, but it was distant, no longer the cause for panic it had been for so long. Bull was just as dangerous to him, in this situation, though his gaze was softer.

“Tonight we talk and drink and try to figure out exactly what it is you want from us,” Bull said in his deep, deep rumble. “We talk drunk and tomorrow we agree sober.”

“Again with the void-cursed talking,” Cullen sighed. “I’m no good at it, Rylen-”

“Rylen is not here,” Bull interrupted. “You and Rylen have been carrying on for...years?” He waited for Cullen to nod before continuing. “Yeah. Rylen’s got your number. Rylen can get you there with a word, a touch, because Rylen knows you inside and out.”

Cullen closed his eyes, shivering as he remembered. He wished, a little desperately, that Rylen was here now to explain to them. Maybe write a little guide book, “The Care and Feeding of Cullen Rutherford, and How to Make Him Scream.” The thought of calling him Ser in front of Bull and Dorian, of being called pup in return… he let out a long, slow sigh and opened his eyes to their stares. No Rylen, not here, he was on his own.

_Let them take care of you, pup._

“Ser Rylen only needs to say one of two words and I’m his,” he agreed, voice low and slow. “Maker knows he’s done it enough.”

“Puppy,” Dorian whispered, and smiled at Cullen’s blush. “Good lad.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cullen breathed. “Maker. What more do you need?”

“Yeah, a fair bit more than that,” said Bull, and Dorian smiled at him fondly. 

“I’ll let you in on a secret about the Iron Bull,” he said to Cullen, “this _is_ sex, for him. Or at the very least, foreplay.”

“I thought we weren’t having sex tonight,” Cullen said as dryly as he could, glancing between the town of them.

“Well you’re not,” Bull said, pulling Dorian in a little closer. “I never said anything about me and Dorian.”

Cullen swore.

“Let me make this easier on you,” Bull said, through a soft laugh. “How about we ask the questions, and all you have to do is answer. Yeah? That would make me real happy, Cullen.”

Cullen shifted in his seat. Fairly blatant, that one, but it still worked. He very much wanted to make Bull happy, after all, even though he knew he was being manipulated. 

The fire crackled, comforting, next to him. He had his own space, on his little chair-island, slightly set apart from the two of them on the bed. The door was locked and barred, and if anyone knew where he was, well, it wasn’t so unusual for the Commander to spend a night up working with members of the Inner Circle. He didn’t have his armour, no, but there was a knife at his hip and one in his boot. He was safe, here. It was safe for him to be...vulnerable.

“Yes, alright,” he said quietly. “I can answer your questions.”

“Marvelous,” Dorian said, and twisted to lay against the pillows, feet in Bull’s lap. “This should be very enlightening.”

“I’m not...I’m not all that exciting,” Cullen sighed. He was still a little taken aback at their interest in him. “Maker knows it’s just sex.”

“Just sex? No. Just sex is what Blackwall and Lady Trevellyan are doing. _Boring_. You, my dear Commander, are a different matter all together.”

Cullen scoffed, the ever-present blush tingling in his cheeks, and looked away. Bull tilted his head, horns swaying.

“And on that. _Commander_. Not what you like to be called in bed, then?”

“Andraste, no,” Cullen said quickly. “Half the idea is to forget all that. Back in - in Kirkwall and Starkhaven, Rylen never called me Knight-Captain either.”

Bull hummed consideringly. “So no titles. Is it just that you like to forget, or do you like to be brought down?”

It was easier, Cullen found, not to look at them. He closed his eyes instead, and lifted his face to the ceiling, rolling his head against the back of the armchair. _Safe_. He was safe, here.

“Both. I don’t want to be _anything_ when I’m with Ser Rylen, except what he wants me to be. And he wants me to be - to be good for him.” He almost stumbled, there. “He sets very easy expectations, I fulfil them, and he rewards me. It’s very simple.”

“But he doesn’t demean you?” Bull’s voice was, somehow, incredibly soothing, low and soft, a rumble that Cullen could almost feel in his chest. “No name calling?”

“No,” said Cullen, though he hesitated, considering. “Not really. Whore, sometimes, but it doesn’t - it’s not mean.”

“You like it?” Dorian put in, encouraging. “Being Ser Rylen’s whore?”

Cullen caught his breath. He understood, now, what Dorian meant when he said that this, too, was a kind of sex.

“Yes,” he said. “His whore, his...hole. An object for his pleasure.”

A quiet, appreciative moan from the bed almost tempted him to open his eyes, and he smiled, just a little. “His lad.”

“And sometimes,” Bull said, “his puppy.”

“And again I’d like to know how far that goes,” Dorian put in. “Cullen, would you be a puppy for us? You could wear our collar and be ever such a good boy.”

The urge to say yes _Ser, Whatever you say, Ser_ , was almost too strong to resist, but Cullen caught his tongue. He trusted them both, very much, but the part of his brain that hadn’t yet been swept away under the current of their words told him to wait. 

“What does being a puppy entail, exactly?” he asked, instead. “Rylen calls me puppy dog, but we never - I don’t bark, as you say. Being his pup is just another way to be _his_. Submissive to his will, and very, ah...eager. To please.”

“Eager,” Bull repeated. “I like the sound of that. We want you to be _very_ eager for us too, Cullen.”

“You could sit up and beg,” Dorian said, with what sounded like a smile in his voice. “You could whine for us.”

“Could I…” his bravery, small and flickering as it was, nearly failed him, here. “Could I still call you Ser?”

Twin sighs from the bed, and Cullen finally cracked his lids to find them both staring at him with matching expressions of hunger. It was, he found, quite gratifying.

“Yeah, lad, you can call us Ser,” Bull breathed. “Not technically correct, mind.”

“Puppies have masters,” Dorian said idly. “Maybe that would be more suited.”

If Cullen hadn’t been hard already, that might have gotten him there alone. He shifted in his chair again, uncomfortable as his trousers dragged and pulled over his stiff cock. Master.

“I think he likes that,” Bull smirked. “I've heard Ferelden dogs are uncommonly smart. I suppose finding one who can talk wouldn’t be so impossible.”

“If I can talk, and beg, and call you master,” Cullen said, voice hoarse, the last remaining tatters of his caution swept to the wind, “then I’ll be just about anything you want me to be.”

“Oh, Cullen, that’s a dangerous promise to make,” Dorian said gently. “Are you always so reckless?”

“No,” he replied honestly. “Oh Maker, you’re going to torture me, aren’t you?”

“Only in the most lovely ways possible,” Dorian promised. “Only if you asked nicely.” His hand was trailing lightly over the tight leather at his stomach, drawing Cullen’s attention, and then a little lower, to where he, too, was obviously hard in his trousers. Cullen’s mouth went dry, oh, he wanted to drop to his knees and _crawl_ to them.

“Dorian,” Bull said, warning, and Dorian sighed, and dropped his hand to the bed. “Not tonight.”

“What if I say please?” Cullen asked, and then, just to taste the word on his tongue, “ _Master_?”

“I don’t get people drunk before I fuck them,” Bull said, voice strained. “At least not the first time.”

Cullen supposed, logically, that that was fair. However, he was rapidly being subsumed by the desire for touch, praise, to be with them and _for_ them. His heart was pounding, a sharp, quick tattoo in his chest. Oh, Maker, he was torn between running away and dropping to his knees and begging.

“I’m going to go back to my room alone tonight and know you’re in here doing...whatever it is the two of you do,” he said, shaky, through dry lips. “And I’m going to be _thinking_ about it.”

“Oh yeah you are. And we’re gonna be thinking about you, too,” Bull promised. “Thinking about the way you just called us master, unprompted, just because you wanna be so good for us. You can bet your ass, lad, we’re gonna have you. Sooner rather than later. But not tonight.”

“There’s no arguing with him,” Dorian said. “Though yes, he’s right, you’ve proven incredibly inspiring, Cullen. You’ll certainly be in our bed in spirit, if nothing else.”

Cullen licked his lips, watching them follow the movement, and for a moment the room was silent but for the crackle of the fire, tension thick enough that Cullen could almost _smell_ it. He wondered if that was really it, if he was expected now to pick up and go back to his loft, to be summoned at their will at some later date. Wondered if he really was supposed to just...turn it off, go back to normal, wondered if they were _finished_ with him for now.

He started fidgeting, first bringing a hand to the back of his neck, then rubbing it over his mouth then, realising what he was doing, clasping his fingers together in a knot of his lap, anxiously wringing them. Rylen always let him know what to do, and when; he wasn’t used to being made to make decisions when he was like this, he didn’t know -

“Hey, pup.” Bull’s voice cut through Cullen’s thoughts sharply, and he looked up from his hands in surprise, eyes wide. Bull was smiling. “You good?”

“Do you want me to go now?” he blurted by way of answer. “I can go, if you - if you want me to, and leave you to it. I don’t want to intrude further.”

“Who the fuck said you were intruding?” Bull wondered. He lounged back indolently, one thumb rubbing up and down Dorian’s calf where Dorian had his legs sprawled over his thighs. “You’re here because we want you to be here, and we will tell you when we want you to leave. Okay?”

Cullen took a deep breath, and then slowly reached out for the bottle of wine, to pour himself a new glass. “I’m sorry,” he said, still confused. “I’m...a bit…”

Bull sighed, and shoved Dorian’s legs off him as he leaned forward, gripping Cullen’s wrist in one big hand. “Alright, look. My bad, okay? This really was supposed to be just talking. I know things can get a little…”

“Intense?” Dorian drawled, sitting back up and putting both feet on the floor.

Bull laughed a little. “Yeah, that. Shit, Cullen, you’re so easy to pull under, I should have realised…” he trailed off again, frowning. “It’s really important to have ground rules. I get that you and Rylen didn’t, but this is different.”

The grip on Cullen’s wrist was calming. He shook his head clear of fog, and took another deep breath. He felt like he did when he was first getting on his knees for a night with Rylen, that willingness to serve and obey taking over as fast as it ever did. He hadn’t even really realised it was happening.

Just talking. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he said a little stiffly. “Maker knows I have no idea what in the void I’m doing.”

“Well that’s why we’re here,” Dorian grinned. “To figure it out so we can get it right when you come back to be ravished.”

Cullen snorted a little, at that, as he suspected he was meant to. “Well, then. We’ve made it abundantly clear there shall be no ravishing tonight. We’ve spoken rather more than I ever thought I would about my particular inclinations in bed. Would you like to fleece me at Wicked Grace next or shall we just carry on drinking?”

Bull let go of his wrist and sat back with a laugh, taking the wine bottle with him. “Oh, shit, Cullen. You think we’re done talking?”

“He really can go on all night,” Dorian sighed. “Believe me.”

“I mean we’ve covered a little. I know that when you come back to us I can put you on your knees and call you my sweet little Ferelden whore, and it’s just gonna make you _swoon_.” There was an evil glint in his eye, at that, and Cullen felt his cock twitch, prayed to the Maker that he wasn’t going to start leaking right through his trousers. “But then? What do we do to you then, Cullen?”

“Whatever you please,” Cullen managed to choke out. “Is the idea.”

“Mmmm, open invitations again? You know that’s dangerous. Do you like pain? If I took a belt to that gorgeous ass until you couldn’t sit down? What about if I carved my name into your back with a blade, Cullen? Dangerous.”

Cullen bit his lips almost hard enough to hurt, holding back a strangled moan as he made himself _think_ about it. “I...maybe the belt. Rylen has, uh, spanked me, on occasion, and I could be tempted into tasting more of that. No to the blade…?” he left it almost a question, looking up at Bull like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to deny him. But Bull smiled encouragingly at him, nodding.

“ _Good_ , Cullen. That’s good, that’s exactly what I want from you, tell me your boundaries. No blood, right? And I might put you over my knee, but we’ll work up to the belt, okay? And maybe that’s enough pain play for first times. Don’t wanna scare you off.”

“You couldn’t,” Cullen breathed. “Maker, Bull, I’m all in on this.”

Dorian reached forward, then, and trailed a soft touch over Cullen’s wrist where Bull had held him so tight. “But Cullen, that’s only a part of it. We also, very much, want to make you feel good. Do you like being filled? Taken?” He grinned. “Ravished?”

“Oh, yes,” Cullen said softly. “Yes, that’s, uh. That’s easy. You can take my mouth, or…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, looked at them imploringly. It was so much simpler when he just had to answer their questions.

“After Bull has warmed your ass, spanked you over his knee until you’re almost sobbing with anticipation, would you like it if I _fucked_ you?” That word, so sudden and filthy coming from Dorian, was almost too much for Cullen to bear. Not tonight, he reminded himself, not tonight, but soon. They want me. This is part of wanting me.

“Yes,” he said out loud. “Yes, that. Please.”

“Both of us?” Bull put in. “One on either end, using you like you love to be used. Is that a yes or no, Cullen?”

“Fuck yes,” Cullen whispered. “Oh sweet Maker yes.”

“And if we came, would you taste it for us? Swallow it? Lick it up?” Bull continued, as all Cullen could do was nod and murmur _yes, yes_. “So we can collar you, spank you, fuck your ass and your mouth, make you lick it up, and you’ll beg for more. Yeah? Does that sound like a plan?”

A whimper of assent, all Cullen could manage, as the images snaked into his head and settled. Oh, he was hard, oh, he was _dripping_.

“But can _we_ taste _you_?” Dorian wondered, cutting in smooth as silk. “Once Bull is finished with that ass, when it’s all red and sore and tender, can I spread you out and open you up on my tongue? Lick into you so deep, until it’s all you can feel?”

Cullen was going to come, very soon, at the very slightest touch to his cock. He squeezed his eyes closed and his hands into fists and did his very best to hold the sensation at bay. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, please.”

“What a sweet little puppy dog,” Bull rumbled. “You’re going to be such a good boy.”

Cullen forced his eyes open, looked at the way they were both gazing at him. The thought came to him again, that he was going to leave them soon, and they were going to carry on without him, and he was going to go back to his tower alone. It didn’t fill him with the same fear, though. It was temptation, anticipation, a long, drawn out tease.

“Is that what you’ll be thinking about when I leave you tonight?” he asked, the lust boiling over and making him bold. 

“Oh shit yeah,” Bull said. “Gonna fuck this Vint and we’re gonna talk about all the filthy things we’re gonna do to you, lad. You like that?”

“I only wish I could listen in,” Cullen admitted. “On the other side of the door. May I?”

Dorian grinned. “I like the initiative, pup. But I think not.”

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Bull said. “You’re gonna go back up to your own bed. You’re gonna get yourself good and comfortable. And you’re going to practise begging for your masters while you come your fucking brains out.”

Cullen groaned, that surge of lust almost overtaking him again, he was so close, if they’d only just…! But no. He held it back, looked up attentively as Bull went on.

“And then tomorrow you’re gonna strap on all that armour and you’re gonna lead your army and know that when I see you next I’m gonna be able to _smell_ it on you.” He grinned, nasty. “And then we’re gonna have a little chat and see when our schedules line up next.”

Cullen coughed. “I shall see to it that the Inquisitor chooses from her other companions for her trip to Crestwood, shall I?” he asked, as dry as he could manage.

Dorian laughed. “ _There’s_ a good lad,” he said, warm and amused and lovely. “You’re going to do remarkably well.”

Cullen licked his lips. Maker have mercy, he hoped so.


	2. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break in the action, a letter received and returned, and the love story that never was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small interlude to tide you over before Bull and Dorian make good on the negotiations. This is a hint at a universe that I will probably never flesh out, but once I got the idea I couldn't help myself.

> _For the Eyes of Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Commander of the Holy Inquisition’s etc. etc., from the desk of Knight Captain Rylen of the Western etc._
> 
> _Hey, pup,_

Cullen’s office was quiet, still, lit by the glow of a few candle stubs and the pale, milky light that bled down through his loft. He’d just bid the last watch goodnight and was locking his doors when a scout bounded up to him and pressed the letter into his hand. “From the Approach,” she’d said, hushed. “Top secret. No eyes but yours.” One of Leliana’s though, which meant a copy had probably already passed the spymaster’s desk - but that was to be expected. He’d tipped his head, watched her dash back out into the night, and taken the letter back to his desk.

Now, his heart was fluttering in his throat. There was no wine left. He drank some water, instead, and read on.

> _I can almost see you blushing already, lad, and I know what you're thinking. So to your spymaster I say this - I’ve sent another letter through the usual channels, all the juicy stuff is in there for the taking. Skim this, as I know you will, but let the Commander have his damn privacy for a change and toss your copy in the fire when you’re done. This is for us._
> 
> _Puppy. Oh stop hiding your face. Puppy. _
> 
> _I worry about you._

Blighted Maker on his throne.

> _Alone in your castle in the sky, surrounded by all that bullshit cold and snow. Pup, the desert did you good, you know that? I could see the way your pasty Fereldan skin just soaked up the sun and sand like you were dying for it. In another life, I’d keep you here with me, lay you out in the sun every day until you turned as brown as me and covered in freckles. Foolishness, you don’t have to tell me, but aye...it would be nice._

Cullen rubbed a hand over his face and set the letter on the desk before him for a moment. Leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. Rylen had always been very good at stringing together fantasies for him, but there had never been anything… never anything like this. He thought he’d grown content with what he had.

He took a long, slow breath in, and pressed shaky hands to the wood either side of the letter. His cheeks were still burning, but now they made him think of the desert warmth, of stretching out in Rylen’s bed, covered in sweat, of the press of a body against his own.

The letter continued,

> _In another life, my lad, we could have had that. But not in this one._
> 
> _A few years and one glorious night is what we got, and I think we both know that anything else is a bonus. Your place is Skyhold and mine is here. You’ve given me purpose outside the blasted order, Cullen, and to that purpose I will dedicate my life, as I know you’re dedicating your own to this insane cause, this impossible mission. Only something as simple as saving the world for my pup, eh?_
> 
> _And yet, I still worry. I still think about you. I still need to know that somehow, somewhere, you’ve found a semblance of happiness._
> 
> _And failing that, at least really good fucking sex._

“Andraste’s fucking crown, Rylen,” Cullen muttered, a smile quirking his lips despite himself. This man -! He wished, terribly, that he hadn’t figured out so late in life that he’d been in love. Another life, indeed.

> _And to that point, the purpose of my letter._
> 
> _I like Dorian Pavus and the Iron Bull, Cullen. I’ve met them more then once, obviously, with the amount you send them and the Inquisitor out here to my little corner of desert. I like them, they’re good for a drink, a laugh, a conversation over ale. We’ve spoken...at length. Not what you think, but aye, we’ve spoken. They’ve got some stories, lad, and the Vint has got a dirty fucking mouth._
> 
> _ Trust them. _
> 
> _They look after each other. They can fight, they can think, and they can love. Maker knows they love each other. It’s nice to see that people can still find that, in the middle of this mess we’re in. I sometimes wish…[scratched out and indecipherable]_
> 
> _Ah listen to me, anyone would think I was an old romantic, the way I’m carrying on._

“You are,” Cullen whispered into the silence. “You _are_.”

> _I’m not saying, lad, that they’re going to sweep you up into their life and hold you like I did. I’m making a lot of assumptions. But I know what you’re like, and I know what you like. I know they’re willing (don’t ask how I know, lad). I know they can take care of you like you need. If I had to trust anyone to see to you like I do, I’d trust them._
> 
> _And it’d be fucking hot, lad. Puppy. Oh Maker, what sin did I commit that I’m being punished by not being able to watch? Didn’t plan that so well, did I lad? Oh aye, aye, it’ll be hot._

Well he was right there, Cullen thought, shifting in his chair. The firelight conversation with Bull and Dorian had been over a week ago, there was just too much work conspiring to keep them apart. Though, they had found him the next morning to provide him with elfroot for the hangover and confirm his interest in the cold light of day. Cullen kept replaying that night over and over in his head, wondering at his own boldness, cursing himself for all the ways in which he’d still held back. He trusted them, too, perhaps all the more for the way they’d teased that discussion out of him before taking him to bed. As mortifying as it had been, it was necessary. Rylen would understand, he thought, though he’d never done anything similar himself. It was care, their way of caring for him, which was different from Rylen’s but still important.

Cullen sighed, and shifted again, and continued. 

> _I get the feeling that by the time we next speak, they’ll have acted on our last discussion at the Keep. Maker knows I expect you to take them up on it, puppy dog. I won’t make it an order - I don’t presume to order the Commander outside of the bedroom - but lad, it will make me very happy if you do._
> 
> _I know how much you like to make me happy._

Cullen took another sip of water, and pressed his eyes closed. Oh, _Rylen_. 

> _The war is ramping up. I think the Inquisition needs you more than I do, and I know I need you quite a bit. Stay in your castle, and I’ll stay in mine. Write me. Visit, if you can, and if not, I’ll understand._
> 
> _Ah, that other life, pup._
> 
> _Tell me how you get on with Bull and Dorian. I pass your care over to them, and I expect them to do a damn good job. If they don’t, there’s not a castle in Thedas that will protect them from me._
> 
> _And in the meantime, take care of yourself. Stay warm, you Fereldan dog lord, and think of me in the sun._
> 
> _I am, as always, your devoted knight,_
> 
> _Rylen_

A few years and one glorious night.

Cullen sighed, and folded the letter very carefully, before taking a small key from his pocket and unlocking a drawer in his desk. Someone, probably Josephine, had organised little scented bags of flowers and herbs to freshen his office when it was first being prepared for him, and the combined scent of lavender and tea rose drifted out, almost making him sneeze. He tucked the letter away in amongst those few small, precious possessions of his that had survived Haven, come with him from Kirkwall and Kinloch Hold. 

_Your devoted knight._

There were piles of letters from his sister that needed a response, and Josephine refused to do it for him. He looked at them guiltily as he pulled fresh parchment and ink to himself, but he knew he needed to reply to Rylen, knew that if he put it off now he’d put it off forever and let the last little shining lights of their relationship slip through his fingers.

Ah Rylen. A few glorious nights, really spread over the gulf of years. Nothing consistent or - or traditional. Not a courtship. More than sex. Not exclusive.

He was looking forward to his night with Bull and Dorian, Maker knew. But he’d miss his Ser. He’d miss...what they’d never really had.

Cullen took another deep, cleansing breath, and started to write.

 

> _Ser Rylen, Captain of Griffon Wing Keep, from the desk of C.S.R of the Inquisition._
> 
> _Ser,_
> 
> _Your letter brought a touch of warmth to my little mountain fortress, as I’m sure you intended, and I was glad of it. Unfortunately, letter writing remains outside of my skill set, so I will keep this brief in an effort to disguise my ineptitude:_
> 
> _They have offered, and I have agreed to take them up on their offer. For this, I have you to thank, and I do. I...believe that I can trust them. We’ve discussed the particulars at length - much, as I’m sure you can imagine, to my chagrin. I will be sure to...hmmm. Inform you of the outcome, whenever I am next in the Approach. _
> 
> _I hope that that is sooner rather than later but I’m afraid I can make no promises. Maker knows there’s enough to do here to fill the days of three of me. I find myself overwhelmed more often than not, with barely a chance to breathe, let alone traipse across Orlais at a whim. However, Rylen..._
> 
> _Keep a spot by the window warm for me, my knight. I shall return one day, you have my word. _
> 
> _In this and any other life you care to imagine I remain, as always,_
> 
> _Your faithful servant_
> 
> _Cullen._

He need not rely on Leliana’s scouts, there were soldiers who wore his colours now, who could take the letter directly from his hand and place it in Rylen’s. He paused, pressing the quill to his lips for a moment, and then added a postscript.

> _P.S._
> 
> _They intend to make me sit up and beg for them, Ser. I daresay you’ll be able to hear it all the way in the Approach. Think of me, in the coming weeks, no longer quite so alone._
> 
> _-Pup_


	3. Pup (i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations are over, time for the boys to put their money where their mouths are.
> 
> Cullen's mouth, in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got ridiculously long and unwieldy so I'm posting it in two parts. Thanks to the absolutely perfect ohmcgee for giving me a lightning fast beta and being such a babe about it <3
> 
> There will probably be more in this universe focusing on Rylen, but it'll come when it comes. Thanks for joining me on the crazy ride!
> 
> (mind the updated tags)

i.

Tucked away in his loft, Cullen slowly and methodically donned full armour and arms as if he were going off to battle. 

He stood in the centre of the room, helmet clasped in his left hand, the fingers of his right gripping the pommel of his sword, and breathed in until he felt his chest press into the unforgiving hardness of his plate. His mantle sat around his shoulders, the comforting weight of it, the warmth of the fur. His feet felt settled and grounded in his boots, the leather snug around his ankles, the greaves pressing as they always did just a little too tightly right under his knees. He had his sword and several knives on his person, and his shield leaned on the wall next to the door. It had taken him half a candle to pull the plate on by himself; he didn’t bother grabbing anyone to squire for him when he had the time and inclination to do it himself.

He closed his eyes. The sun had started to set, and he had given strict instructions that from sunset to breakfast he wasn’t to be disturbed for anything short of an invasion.

Slowly, as the candles in his room burned down in the dusk, he made himself, piece by piece, take it all off again.

~

“Cullen! How’s it going?”

The fire in Bull and Dorian’s quarters was built up again, to an almost uncomfortable degree, and Cullen was glad he’d dressed down in hide trousers and a linen shirt, his mantle thrown over his shoulders just for the walk along the battlements. Dorian smiled at him warmly as he took it, hanging it neatly on Bull’s armour stand, and Cullen smiled back as he fidgeted, hands tugging anxiously on the loose ties at his neck.

“Goodness me, the armour hides a lot, doesn’t it?” Dorian leered, gesturing Cullen to the same chair he’d taken last time and handing him a glass of wine. It was, Cullen noticed when he took a nervous sip, heavily watered.

“Well it wouldn’t be much use if it left me exposed, would it?” he said dryly, and Bull snorted. 

“He’s got you there, Vint,” he said, rising from his place on the bed to lock the door behind them. His harness and brace were off. He wore nothing but his trousers, a rather muted deep red instead of the bright stripes Cullen was accustomed to, and his skin gleamed silver in the firelight. He was, Cullen noticed, sweating a little in the warmth of the room. The bulk of him was almost impossible to comprehend, huge and damp and solid, horns stretch out and back like something from legend.

Dorian was dressed similarly to Cullen, to his surprise, though everything was of a much finer quality and nicer cut. Tight leather breeches, a white shirt with fine silver buttons that left half of his chest exposed - deep, bronze-brown that made Cullen’s mouth water. There was gold at his fingers and ears and neck, and he smelled of something expensive as he passed Cullen to go stand at his Bull’s side. Together, they looked...incredible. _Impossible_.

Cullen, finding himself already overwhelmed, looked away nervously, looking around at anything but them. The room was much as he’d left it: candles, the fire crackling, armour racked neatly, Dorian’s staff leaning against the wall next to an assortment of greatswords and axes. The bed, huge and soft looking, covered in piles of bright pillows and quilts, with - oh.

Oh, _Maker_.

Sitting in the centre of the bed, small and innocuous and drawing all the air out of the room, was a dog collar.

Bull and Dorian, seeing him notice it, gave him twin smirks and remained quiet, Dorian standing slightly before Bull and leaning back on him as against a wall, ankles crossed and one thumb hooked in his waistband. The picture, Cullen thought faintly, of nonchalance.

He licked his lips, gaze darting between them and the collar. It was leather, decorated with a heavy brass buckle, and it was dyed a deep brown-red, almost the exact colour of his mantle. The desire to touch it was almost overwhelming; he took a sip of his wine instead and found himself draining the cup. Oh, Maker's _breath_.

“That,” he started, paused, tried again. “You did not just have _that_ lying around the place.”

“Got it from the kennels,” Bull said casually, resting a huge, scarred hand on Dorian’s hip. “Had it dyed special, though.”

“Nothing but the best,” Dorian agreed. “Will you wear it for us?”

“Sweet Andraste.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling dreadfully exposed without his furs to hide behind. He could feel the blush starting and creeping down his throat to his chest, and thought of Rylen teasing him about it - his pale Ferelden skin showing everything, all the way down. He felt like he was glowing right through the light linen of his shirt.

In his breeches, his cock twitched and started to harden.

“What Dorian means to say,” Bull cut in smoothly, “is Cullen, it would make us real happy if you’d let us put it on you. You don’t have to say yes and we’ll work out a watchword but...yeah.” Bull let out a long sigh. “Yeah, we'd like that, Cullen.”

“A watchword?” Cullen asked, eyes drawn back to the collar. He was familiar with the concept, but didn’t have any personal experience with them.

“Yeah. Did you and Rylen not…?”

“No,” Cullen said quickly. “No, it was understood, if I told him to stop, he’d stop.”

“And did you ever?” Dorian asked curiously. “Tell him to stop?”

“No.” Cullen thought back, tried to remember if he’d ever come close. “Never.”

“Oh, pup.” Dorian’s voice was warm. “You’re just such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Cullen couldn’t reply, just glanced at them a little desperately. He wanted to be touched. He wanted that collar. 

“I’m gonna give you a watchword anyway,” Bull said. “Because this is new. You can say _katoh_ , alright? For any reason at all, and we’ll both stop what we’re doing. _Katoh_.”

Cullen tilted his head. He hadn’t spent almost ten years in Kirkwall without picking up a little qunlat. “Doesn’t _katoh_ just mean stop?”

Dorian snorted, and flushed for some reason. “Evidently,” he muttered, and Bull grinned.

“Took Dorian awhile to figure that one out. Thought it was something all exotic and special.”

“Yes, well, that’s not the point,” Dorian said loudly, endearingly. “The point, puppy dog, is that that word is your safety blanket, yes?”

They looked at him expectantly and he found himself nodding. “ _Katoh_ ,” he mouthed, getting the feel of it. “Yes, okay.”

“Good boy,” Bull said, watching him carefully. “Ah, shit, Cullen. Come here for a second, okay?”

Cullen blinked at them, already a little slow, and pushed himself out of his chair, standing on slightly wobbly feet. The few steps towards them, standing in the centre of the room by the bed, took an eternity, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands shaking. He stopped in front of Dorian, half a pace away, and Bull reached out to grasp the front of his shirt and tug him still closer. Cullen could feel the heat coming off them; he was about eye to eye with Dorian but would have to crane his neck to look at Bull. He kept his gaze down, unsure.

“Pup,” Bull said, voice low and rough. “You wanna get started here?”

Cullen licked his lips, eyes still lowered. “Yes,” he said softly. “Please.”

Dorian shifted, brushing the fine, fine cloth of his shirt against Cullen’s arm. “Look up at us,” he said, “Come on, there you are.”

Cullen had to take a long, slow breath as he did, tilting his head back to take in the two of them together, Dorian still leaning back against Bull’s bulk, eyes heavy with kohl as they swept up and down Cullen’s body. Beautiful, beautiful, and they wanted _him_.

“May we kiss you?” Dorian said then, smooth as the silk of his clothes, and Cullen immediately started stammering.

“I - I - if you -”

“Let’s try that again,” Dorian interrupted, a curl at the corner of his lips, eyes crinkling. “I’m going to kiss you, pup, and then I daresay Bull is going to kiss you, and you’re going to allow it because you’re such a good boy, yes?”

“Yes,” Cullen breathed in relief, and then Dorian was ducking his head just a little and closing the space between them. Oh yes, he smelled good, _expensive_ , and under the fine oil and perfume was the raw, dark smell of sweat and sex and Bull. He smelled like they’d spent all afternoon in bed, waiting for him there, and his lips were soft and full and oh sweet Maker his tongue tasted of the watered wine and of ginger cookies and oh, oh…

Dorian kissed him like he owned him. Assured, confident, lips sliding over Cullen’s, sucking slightly before pushing in, opening his mouth and _taking_ it. Cullen surrendered, of course, to the kiss and to the moment, it was that drop that he always felt with Rylen, the sink into his role. It usually happened gradually, or somehow when he wasn’t looking, but now he was so conscious of it, of the instant he was theirs and no longer himself. No longer Commander Cullen, no longer anyone much, except the man currently being kissed by Dorian and held by The Iron Bull.

He kept his eyes closed as Dorian pulled away, with one last, lingering suck to his lower lip. Bull was there next, huge, rough fingers tilting his chin up, and Cullen just opened his mouth to it, a soft noise escaping as Bull leaned in. His lips were rougher than Dorian’s, but still full, still perfect. His mouth was just so big, his face, big; it was like being kissed by a giant, or a god. 

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Dorian whispered, watching. “Beautiful.”

Bull tasted different, _stronger_. Still of wine and ginger, but also something mineral in there, or metallic. It was gentle, but Cullen found himself imagining Bull striding off the battlefield, covered in blood, leaving a sea of bodies in his wake. Grabbing him and sweeping him up like he was something owned. Even soft, surrounded by luxury, there was an aura of violence about the Bull, of immense power barely restrained. It was thrilling, and Cullen moaned again, pressing in harder and feeling Dorian’s quiet laughter against him.

“That’s it, puppy dog,” Dorian murmured and kissed his neck, down the tendon behind his ear into the sensitive crook left bare by his loose shirt. Cullen shuddered and sank a little deeper. Dorian was holding him around the waist, now, and Bull’s hand was firm on the other side of his neck, and he was theirs, he was _theirs_ , oh, but this was perfect. Oh, but he wanted to fall to his knees…

The kiss ended again, this time with a quick bite to his lip that made his eyes shoot open, made him gasp and then lean back in for more.

“Please,” he murmured, a little slurred. “Please…”

“Lad,” Bull rumbled. “Is it time to get on your knees for us?”

“Oh, _please_.”

“Clothes, first,” Dorian decided, and Cullen could only stand there dumbly as they surrounded him, Dorian crouching to tug at his boots, Bull circling around behind him and pulling at the hem of his shirt. 

“Up, up,” he said and Cullen raised his arms, shivered as Bull trailed callused fingers up his sides and over his chest as he stripped him. Dorian had him off balance as he unbuckled his boots, tossed one after another to the side and pulled off his (fresh, he had the presence of mind to remember, thank the Maker) stockings.

“Oh, pup, that’s lovely.” Dorian grinned up at him, taking in his naked chest, the muscle that was really just a by-product of all the armour and sword work, certainly nothing on Bull, certainly not as beautifully sculpted as Dorian. He was blushing again, heat spilling down his chest, and the room wasn’t cold but he could feel his nipples harden, pink like his cheeks and his stupid Fereldan nose.

“Just lovely,” Dorian insisted, seeing the look on his face, and nuzzled a kiss to his stomach, just below his navel. “You southerners are so pale, it’s such a novelty. Look at that blush, pup! And all that blond fuzz…” His hands were busy at the laces of his trousers as he continued to kiss over Cullen’s stomach, licking at the muscles, biting occasionally at the soft swells of his abdominals. 

Bull held him steady, chuckling a little at Dorian while he took Cullen’s hands in his, moving them gently behind his back and keeping them there. “How do you like being a plaything for the Vint?” Bull asked, lips moving against Cullen’s ear and making him shiver. “You’re basically a new toy right now, you know that?”

“Oh yes,” Cullen said. “I - its -”

“Is that what you want? We’re just gonna use you tonight, pup. All those pretty muscles, all that pretty, soft Ferendan skin. Ours.” His teeths were sharp as they bit into the curve of Cullen’s ear, and this time Cullen didn’t jump, just melted into it. “Our pretty Fereldan whore.”

Dorian was sucking at Cullen’s hip bone, slowly, slowly tugging his trousers and smalls down his thighs and completely ignoring his hard cock. He smirked up at them.

“Couldn’t have gotten better if we’d paid for it,” he said warmly, like it was compliment, and Cullen _flamed_. “Or, shall we? You’re a busy man, pup. I’m sure we’re taking up a lot of valuable time, tonight. Maybe we should send you off with a few sov in your pockets like the whore you are?”

“Oh, Maker,” Cullen moaned, _humiliated_. The idea of it, going back to work with their coin jangling in his pocket, knowing what it was for, maybe spending it on a new shirt down at the market stalls, a box of the chocolates he so rarely let himself indulge in…

His cock twitched and he could only watch helplessly as Dorian noticed and laughed. “Oh, you do like that. It’ll be our secret, you know.” He tapped at Cullen’s ankles, one after the other, urging him to step out of his trousers. “Knowing you whore yourself out, just for us? What a delightful thought.”

“A few sovereigns, Dorian? You Vints are so fucking loose with your money. We haven’t even tested him out. Chuck him a handful of silver and tell him to be grateful for it.” There was a laugh in Bull’s voice and Cullen knew that he should be cringing away, wilting with embarrassment, but...he was just getting harder, more turned on.

“Mean,” Dorian chided. “We know he’s going to be just perfect for us, don’t we?” He dragged his wet, hot mouth up Cullen’s side as he stood, just firm enough for it to not tickle, ending at his right nipple, which he sucked. Cullen reflexively tried to tug his hands free of Bull’s grip, to grab at the back of Dorian’s head, and Bull yanked him back into place like it was nothing.

“Ah, ah,” he breathed. “Let him play, pup.”

Dorian sucked hard, worried at him with his teeth for a while, sending lines of pleasure shooting down Cullen’s body to his cock. He didn’t bite hard enough to hurt, but the threat was there, just like Bull’s sharp, sharp teeth at his ear. He forced himself still, rigid, body tense and trembling in Bull’s grip. Held. He was held.

“He tastes so good,” Dorian sighed, flashing his eyes up past Cullen to Bull. “He’s delicious.”

“Nothing but the best for my Vint,” Bull said fondly and Dorian snorted as he switched sides. 

“And yet here you are wanting to short change him? Shower the boy in gold and diamonds, I say, and leash him to the end of our bed on a pile of silken pillows. Keep him there on tap, for whenever we please.”

“Decadent.” Bull transferred his grip on Cullen’s wrists, holding him easily in one big hand, and lifted the other to tease at Cullen’s nipple, wet now with Doria’s saliva. He rolled it between his fingertips, tugged, took a firm grip on Cullen’s entire pec, fitting it neatly in his palm, and _squeezed_.

“Oh Maker, oh Andraste,” Cullen whispered. “Oh…”

“Dorian,” Bull rumbled. “Do you think he’s ready for his collar?”

Only Bull’s hold on him kept Cullen from sinking to the floor. They both laughed gently at him, Dorian pressing kisses over his chest and up, across his jaw, to the corner of his mouth, his scar.

“You’re being so sweet, so good,” he said. “Look at you, you can’t wait to get to your knees for us, can you?”

“Come on,” Bull stepped back a little, leaving Cullen reeling, but then he was pulling down, and Cullen knew what to do. He dropped to his knees, naked beneath them, legs spread just a little, hands clasped loosely behind his back. For an instant he could almost see Rylen, the approving look on his face. _Aye lad, that’s a good boy_.

But he blinked, and it was Bull and Dorian, and it was just as good, just as good.

“May I,” he started, and then had to pause and clear his throat, lick his lips, as they looked at him expectantly. “May I wear your collar? Please?”

“Are you ready to be our puppy dog?” Dorian asked, saunting over to the bed to hook up the collar in one elegant finger. “Are you ready to call us master and beg for us?”

“Yes,” Cullen breathed. “Oh, yes.”

“Good lad.” Dorian handed the collar off to Bull, who was still behind Cullen, and sat himself on the edge of the bed, long, leather clad legs sprawled wide. “Bull, will you do the honours?”

“It's always cute when you think you’re in charge, Dorian,” Bull said affectionately, but did as he was told, bending forward to slip the smooth, soft leather around Cullen’s throat. The brass buckle jangled softly as Bull slipped the end through the clasp and tightened it slowly, testing the give with one finger slipping in against Cullen’s neck.

Just like he would a real dog, Cullen thought, giddy, and then the collar settled, cool and firm around his throat, and he, he drew in a harsh, gasping breath, and his cock twitched and pumped, precome welling up and dribbling down his shaft and they were watching him and-

“Ma-masters” he gasped, “I’m going - I’m going to-”

“Oh fuck, no you _don’t_.” Dorian was in front of him in an instant, crouching between his open legs and grasping the base of his cock hard. Cullen was too far gone, though, tossing his head back, eyes squeezed closed against the feeling of the collar digging into his vulnerable skin, and it was coming, coming, he was -!

“ _Ah_!’

So close that it may as well have happened, his orgasm swept through his body and receded, leaving his cock spasming, trying to pump into Dorian’s grip. He was shaking like a leaf, sweat springing up all over his body and clear, sticky fluid leaking from the deep red tip of his aching cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Dorian was chanting, and then he was there, kissing Cullen hard, over his mouth, his jaw, tongue licking down against the edge of the collar. “Cullen, fuck, did you just _come_?”

He looked between Cullen and Bull, kiss swollen lips and eyes bright, wondering. “Bull, did you _see_ that?”

“He might be worth the gold after all,” Bull said with a breathless laugh. ‘Shit, puppy. Don’t do _that_ again without permission.”

“Yes master.” Cullen was still dazed, cock still flexing on Dorian’s grip, but the orgasm was fading, if that was what it had truly been. He was dry, as was Dorian’s hand, and his balls were heavy with unspent seed. He wanted, so very very badly, to rut against something until he came for real, made a mess.

But he had his orders. “I won’t...you can, ah,” he shifted his hips, and looked at Dorian imploringly. “I’m sorry, master.”

“Darling, don’t be.” Dorian pressed a final kiss to his cheek, and pulled back, letting go of his dick with a small pat. “That was just beautiful, pup.” He arranged himself back on the bed, and Cullen could see the erection pressed against the front of his tight trousers. His mouth watered, he wanted that… and yet.

He shook his head to flick his sweaty hair out of his face, not thinking at first how much it made him look like a dog shaking off a bath, and settled himself back into position. His cock bobbed, rather humiliatingly, in front of him, red and pink and hard as rock, but he ignored it. Hands behind his back, spine straight, knees a little apart on the soft red rug that decorated the floor. Head up, but eyes down. He could do this. 

“Good boy,” Bull said, approving, and came back into view, steps heavy in his big boots, tall as a tree, as a mountain. “Good dog.”

Cullen shuddered hard, and bit his lip. Something about the word ‘dog’ instead of ‘puppy’. One was still a term of affection, a solid link to what he and Rylen had had, comforting. The other took him into unknown territory, and he wasn’t sure how much he liked it. There was no denying, though, his cock was still hard, no denying the flushes of pleaser, of eagerness.

_Katoh_ , he thought. _Do I want to stop this?_

No. He did not.

“Master,” he said, blinking up at them. “ _Masters_.”

Bull sat on the bed next to Dorian and planted his feet on the floor in front of Cullen.

“You remember your watchword?” he asked, like he’d read Cullen’s mind or, more likely, his face. “You good?”

“Yes, master.” Cullen nodded, and taking a chance, leaned forward enough to rub his cheek briefly over Bull’s knee. “Please don’t stop.”

“No intention of it, pup,” Dorian said soothingly, running his fingers through Cullen’s hair. “Maker, you love this, don’t you?” He scratched his nails over Cullen’s scalp, down behind his ear to the nape of his neck, and Cullen leaned into it, moaning a little for more. He didn’t need to answer with words, just with the sway of his body towards them, the way he ducked his head and opened himself up.

“Dorian always wanted a dog,” Bull said. “But didn’t want one shedding all over his nice clothes. But you don’t shed, do you lad? Don’t make a mess?”

“I bet he makes a little bit of a mess,” Dorian added with a smile. “But these Fereldan breeds are clever, I’m sure he knows to clean it up.”

“Yes, master,” Cullen whispered, and then, as Dorian slid his hand around to his mouth, dared a quick lick at Dorian’s fingers.

“Oh, good boy” Dorian sighed and slipped two easily into Cullen’s mouth, inviting him to suck. Cullen did, eyes wide as he looked up at Dorian’s gorgeous face, narrowed eyes and plump mouth open and wet. “That’s a good dog. Let’s see what else you can do, shall we?”

“I know you want that ass smacked,” Bull cut in. “Yeah, I remember that look. But that seems like something a good pup would have to earn, doesn’t it Dorian?”

“Mmm,” Dorian agreed, luxuriously pumping his fingers slowly in and out of Cullen’s mouth. “Any ideas?”

Bull’s grin was mean. He reached behind himself on the bed and Cullen finally noticed what he’d been doing while Dorian had been taking up his attention. He held Cullen’s own smalls, bundled and tied together into what looked like a fat, misshapen rope. Cullen flushed, immediately, lips going slack around Dorian’s fingers.

“Will you fetch for us, puppy dog?”

Cullen was going to combust. They were looking at him expectantly, and he could, he knew, baulk at this. He could probably just suck their dicks, probably get fucked, and they’d be happy with that, _he’d_ be happy with that. He could draw his line right here, say his watchword and end it completely.

Or, he supposed, he could crawl around on hands and knees and play fetch like these two fucking gorgeous men wanted him to do, because he wanted to be a good boy, he wanted to be a good _dog_ , and he wanted, desperately, for them to tell him so.

He twisted his head away from Dorian’s fingers, conscious of the spit drooling down his chin, fighting the urge to wipe it away. Behind his back, his hands were clenched into fists, and his cock was still achingly hard.

“Yes master,” he said, in the softest whisper, and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Whatever you like, master.”

“Oh, but I think you’ll like it too, puppy,” Bull drawled. “You know half the fun is watching you get off on this shit, right? If I didn’t think you’d like it I wouldn’t make you do it. Eyes up, lad.”

Cullen blinked up at him, at them, Dorian sprawling insolently back, Bull leaning forward, Cullen’s smalls held out for him to sniff. Cullen did so, again thanking the Maker they were clean and fresh, hardly smelled of anything really, but - Bull took a deep breath through his nose and leered.

“Smells _good_ , pup. You know qunari senses leave humans for shit, right? I can smell how you were leaking into these all the way over here. Yeah, they’re fresh as a daisy, you probably wore them special for us, right? Had yourself a nice little bath before putting them on, used that...ah, yeah, that soap that Josie orders from Orlais, not the fussy rose stuff, just the real good, expensive vanilla. Nice taste, bet you never got anything like that in the Order, right? So you scrubbed yourself down for us and put these on, but…” he took another, deep breath, “But you wore ‘em for a little while. Enough time to get hard, enough time to sweat. So they smell good now, pup. Vanilla and sweat and come.”

Cullen was light headed, swaying again. Dorian was back to patting his head like he’d pat a lapdog absently while he listened to Bull. He felt a whine start in the back of his throat, and let it go. Sat up a little on his knees and tilted his head. He - he could do this. What they wanted from him, oh yes. He could do it.

“Beg, pup,” Dorian murmured and Bull held the smalls out again, in front of Cullen’s nose. “Beg for us.”

“Please, please,” Cullen said, because he was allowed to talk, that was a rule. “Oh fuck, please-”

“Fetch, then.” Bull tossed the smalls over Cullen’s shoulder. Not far, just to the other side of the rug, and Cullen only hesitated for a moment before turning and dropping to all fours and-

Oh, Maker, those bastards.

It left him fully exposed, naked, on hands and knees, awkwardly crawling along the floor with his arse pointed directly at them. He knew the kind of picture he must make, how open he must be. And yet, there was nothing for it but to crawl forward, nose out the smalls from where they’d rolled just under the armchair, and grip them - naturally - in his mouth.

Sweet Andraste on her pyre.

The wadded up bundle was just a little too big to comfortably hold between his teeth. His jaw was stretched awkwardly, and he could already feel drool forming at the corners of his lips. It was humiliating. He crouched for a moment, his back to them, torn between knowing what they could see of him now, and the picture he’d make when he turned around - red faced, drooling. He was shaking, still, and his cock was drooling too, all over their nice rug. Oh, fuck. Oh - 

“Fetch, pup.” Bull’s voice held just a hint of warning and Cullen responded to it instinctively, awkwardly turning back around and crawling back to them to deposit the bundle where Bull pointed, on the tip of one boot. It left Cullen in an interesting position, head down and arse up, and he took advantage of the moment to give a quick lick to the clean, smooth leather of Bull’s boot before sitting back on his heels, job done.

Dorian, Cullen immediately saw, was tugging at the laces of his trousers one handed, lounging back on the bed with the other as he watched Cullen with a hungry expression, sharp white teeth digging into his bottom lip. Bull just grinned as he leaned down to fetch the makeshift rope and toss it thoughtfully in one hand.

“I liked _that_ ,” he said, nudging Cullen with his spit-shiny boot. “That didn’t come up in our talk, did it?”

“A lot of things didn’t come up,” Cullen said. “Master.”

“You’re a fucking goldmine, lad,” Dorian breathed, and then his erection was free, long and dark, wet at the head, and he was stroking himself almost languidly. “Can you put that tongue to work for me?”

“Anywhere you like, master.” Cullen was conscious of the drool on his chin, of the collar sitting proudly around his neck, of his position, kneeling at their feet. It was debauched, _obscene_ , he wanted to _revel_ in it. 

He tilted his head to the side and let his tongue touch the corner of his mouth, waiting. Dorian’s fingers were long and elegant, glinting with gold as they wrapped around his cock. Cullen wanted them back in his mouth, wanted _anything_ back in his mouth, even his damn smalls. He felt like he was simultaneously sinking into the floor, hot and heavy, and flying, untethered, into the night sky. They were watching him. They wanted him. That was enough, that was enough.

“Start with my boot,” Dorian purred, stretching a leg out a little, “considering you like that so much. And work your way up.”

“Yes, master.”

He bent immediately to his task, nosing up the gentle inner curve of Dorian’s tight leather boot - shinier than Bull’s, with rather more in the way of silver buckles. He followed the movement with his tongue, broad, messy licks like he really was the puppy they’d made him into. Up over the instep, up to suck a little at the outer ankle, up - and then a tight grip in his hair, tugging, as he stumbled up to his knees to follow.

“No patience, Dorian,” Bull rumbled, amused, as Dorian spread his legs and pulled Cullen in between them. “I was enjoying that.”

“ _Fasta vass_ , have him fellate your footwear in your own time, then,” Dorian muttered. “I want that mouth on my cock.”

Cullen was only too happy to obey.

“Lick, yes,” Dorian breathed, holding himself up at the base, one hand still caught in Cullen’s curls. “All over it, darling, taste it for me. Show me you like it.”

That _voice_. Cullen moaned, loud and unashamed, licking from the base to the thick, sweet head, dipping his tongue into the slit at the top, moaning again in pleasure at the taste of him there. He _let_ himself drool now, let it get filthy and messy, licked over and over as Dorian encouraged him - _yes puppy, that’s a good boy, lick me, darling, lick my cock_ \- mouthed at it, at all the places he could reach. Big, sucking kisses up the shaft, rubbing it against his face until that slickness mixed with his saliva and made a _wreck_ of him.

“Lower, puppy,” Dorian ordered, his voice cracking into a million pieces at Cullen’s onslaught. He lifted his hips and shoved at his trousers until Cullen got the idea, mouthing down at Dorian’s balls, licking gentler now and sucking them, one after the other into his mouth. Dorian kept his grip tight in his hair and then there was Bull’s hand too, stroking up his neck and hooking into his collar, holding him still and night, face shoved between Dorian Pavus’s thighs, mouth wet on his balls.

“Oh what a pretty fucking picture that is,” Bull sighed. “ _Dorian_. You gonna come like that?”

“Given about ten minutes, yes,” Dorian said tightly. Their words were muffled, drifting down to Cullen’s ears as if through layers of cotton, and they were incidental. It didn’t matter to him what they did and didn’t do, what they chose to do with him. He was theirs and their low murmurs, their plans, were nothing to him. His place was right there, kneeling where Dorian had put him, until one of them told him otherwise.

He floated. Hands in his hair, hands on his collar. A rough, soft hand stroking down his cheek and pushing fingers into his mouth. “Pup.” The scent of Dorian all around him, sweat and musk and leather. “ _Pup_.” The floor hard beneath his knees but the rug soft. The warmth of the fire against his back and the shiver or Dorian’s muscles against him, the tension - “ _Pup_!”

His head was yanked back by the curls at the back of his head and he groaned as his neck was forced into a tight arch, the collar pressing sharply into his Adam’s apple. He blinked up at them, vision hazy, and licked the taste of Dorian off his lips.

“Yes?”


	4. Pup (ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scene continues, Cullen gets what he bargained for and then some, and things get messy.

ii.

Things moved fast, then, almost too fast for Cullen to process. Bull was bending down for a bruising, biting kiss, and then hauling him up. Cullen lost his balance and the world spun before he was righted, stretched out on his stomach on the bed, moaning as he rubbed his cheek against the satiny-soft blankets. Dorian was there again, naked now and bronze legs spread around Cullen’s head, leaning back against his mountain of pillows like a lord. And then, Bull’s hands on Cullen’s hips, pulling his ass up and his thighs open until he was half sprawled on Bull’s huge lap as Bull kneeled on the bed behind him. _Decadent_ , Bull had said earlier. Yes, that was what this was. Maker save his soul.

“Are you going to smack him round a bit?”

Dorian’s voice sounded breathless, raw, and Cullen felt more than heard Bull’s laughter behind him.

“Objections?”

“Not at all. Just wondering whether I should put my cock back in his mouth now or wait to see how he takes the pain.”

“Practical of you. Hold off, pretty thing, the pup looks like he might have a nasty bite.”

Cullen whined. Maker, he’d thought the way Rylen spoke to him was perfect, but there was something intoxicating about this, the way they talked over him, about him, like he was nothing but an object for their use.

The heat was gathering again, the urge to rut and arch and come, drawn forth by nothing more than their words. He twisted, writhed, but Bull’s grip was like iron on his hips.

“ _Maker_ ,” he breathed, with his last remaining shred of self preservation. “If you - if you keep talking about me like that I’ll _spend_.”

“Oh no you fucking won’t,” Bull said easily, one hand reaching under him. For one tiny, joyful instant, as strong fingers circled his cock, Cullen thought - maybe - but no, Bull was just gripping him tight at the base, like Dorian had earlier, his other hand holding Cullen still and preventing him from pumping into the grip. “Need to get you a cockring, lad, if you’re going to keep popping off like this. Keep you good and hard and primed until we’re ready for your come.”

“ _Bull_ ,” Cullen moaned, long and low and desperate, and was startled by a quick, sharp slap on his backside, flinching away with a cry.

“Yes,” Dorian murmured and Cullen raised wide, shocked eyes to him, his flushed cheeks and bitten lips, before twisting to look over his shoulder at Bull.

Bull grinned. “Ask me to do that again, pup,” he said. “Or I won’t.”

 _You bastard,_ Cullen thought viciously. _You beautiful, Maker damned bastard._

“Please…”

Bull pinched him, just lightly, on the meat of his ass, right over the fading sting of the slap. “Uh uh, not good enough. Thought you Ferelden dogs were supposed to be smart?”

_Bastard, bastard._

He could feel his dick leaking, a long string of sticky fluid dripping down to ruin the blankets. Bull was going to make him say it. Again.

“Please...hit me,” he gritted out. The room was spinning around him. He wanted to close his eyes and sink into the bed, he wanted to bury himself between Dorian’s thighs again, he wanted to stare at Bull, his scars and his heft and his horns, until he filled his whole universe. He wanted, he wanted, oh, he wanted.

“Better,” Bull allowed, and slapped him lightly, hardly a tap. Cullen cried out anyway, every inch of his flesh on fire, every nerve screaming.

“Darling,” Dorian soothed, pushing a hand through his wet hair, stroking it away from his sweaty forehead. “Bull, he’s so lovely like this. Are you sure we can’t keep him?”

“Trevelyan might have something to say about it,” Bull snorted, and smacked him again, harder, still not hard enough, still, somehow, perfect. 

“Please, please,” Cullen chanted, “Oh, please.”

Bull, Maker bless and take him, obliged.

The slaps came, one after the other, never too hard or rough, just enough to warm Cullen until he thought he might combust. Over and over, layering the sting with a deeper, more satisfying pain that seemed to sink into his muscles and then his bones like hot liquid. Dorian pulled him up a little until he could rest his cheek on one thigh, slipped two fingers in his mouth to suck as Bull worked, occasionally said something appreciative to one or the other of them. His cock was hard and heavy against his stomach, the heady smell driving Cullen wild, but he kept Cullen away from it, kept his head down and mouth preoccupied. 

It wasn’t long until Cullen became, once more, untethered.

The need to come receded a little, to nothing but an ache in his balls to match the ache that Bull was gently beating into his ass. He barely even noticed when Bull let his cock go, barely noticed when the slaps slowed and Bull was kneading at him between each of them, grabbing his cheeks and squeezing as if to push the pain in. He opened Cullen up, exposed him, for long, heavy seconds, and then let go, let his ass bounce, tense and relax. Cullen didn’t care. He sucked at Dorian’s fingers, tongued the rings, blinked his tears away and just let it happened. They spoke, occasionally, ‘gonna fuck him Vint?’ ‘when you’re finished playing, amatus’ and Cullen shivered and shook and moaned like the whore they made of him.

“Puppy dog,” Bull crooned. “Cute as fuck, look at you. You took that so well, pup. Shit, your ass is _glowing_ pink for me, fucking gorgeous.”

“Master,” Cullen slurred around Dorian’s fingers in agreement. “Feels so good.”

“I know, lad. Gonna make you feel better. You wanna sit on Dorian’s dick?”

“ _Venhedis_ , Bull,” Dorian swore, jerking his fingers reflexively in Cullen’s mouth, almost making him gag. “Get him ready for me?”

“Mmmm, on it,” Bull purred, and the next time he grabbed Cullen’s ass cheek he held it, keeping Cullen exposed and open to his gaze. “Fuck, Vint, wish you could see this. He’s Ferelden down here too, all blond and pink.”

“Sweet as honey,” Dorian murmured, cheeks dimpling in a smile. “I’ll bet. He’ll look even sweeter once I’m through with him.”

“Sweet’s one word for it.” Bull’s fingers were big and broad and oh, so gentle as he put two together and rubbed them directly over Cullen’s hole, not even trying to push in, just _stroking_ him there. 

Cullen stopped sucking at Dorian, just let his mouth hang open and wet, panting at the touch, the anticipation. Bull rubbed and stroked, nothing but Cullen’s sweat to ease the way, making Cullen twitch and tense, not sure if he wanted to shy away or spread himself even more obscenely open to the touch.

“Oil, Bull,” Dorian murmured in amusement, after a while. “You’re torturing him.”

“That’s the idea,” Bull protested, but then he let go , fumbled at something off to the side as Dorian half sat up to watch.

“Oh, please fuck me,” Cullen sighed, to their laughter. “Fuck, please, please…”

“Eager,” Bull rumbled in approval, and then something cool and slick and slightly tingly was being tipped over his ass, over Bull’s fingers, dripping down his balls. Cullen moaned, long and low, as the familiar scent reached his nose.

“Is that... _elfroot_?”

“Oil blended with elfroot salve, yeah,” Bull said. “Dorian’s work.”

“You’ll see why I needed an oil with healing properties once you get a look at him,” Dorian said dryly. “Feels good, yes?”

“Oh my sweet Andraste,” Cullen groaned as Bull massaged the thick oil in, rubbing it over his hole, pushing at the tight muscle. He used that salve often, on aching limbs, minor abrasions from the training yard, on the nape of his neck when his headaches flared up. He would never be able to smell it, now, without remembering _this_.

“Tight as a vice,” Bull murmured, as one finger finally breached Cullen’s body, just slightly, just dipping in. “Dorian, you should-“

“Yes.” And then Dorian was sitting up and leaning forward over Cullen, reaching down to slide his fingers along Bull’s, and Cullen was buried in him, surrounded by him, as they pushed in together. The oil eased the way and the elfroot soothed the burn as they pushed and stretched and opened him up, two fingers, then three. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and cried out against Dorian’s thigh, he was going to pass out, he was going to come, he was, he was…

“Come here, darling, pup, come here,” Dorian whispered, tugging at him as he sat back, smearing oily streaks over Cullen’s arms and shoulders as he pulled. “Come on.”

Cullen was too dazed to move, Bull was still fingering him, huge and solid as he pumped in and out, but he urged Cullen up to his knees, pushed him along with his free hand until he was awkwardly straddling Dorian’s lap. He slumped forward, legs sprawled out either side of Dorian’s hips, and Dorian grabbed his face and kissed him hot and messy and dirty.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he hissed into Cullen’s mouth. “Until you are a ruin.”

Bull was maneuvering him into position like he was a doll, Cullen could only lie there and take it as those fingers slipped out for good, and the blunt, wet head of Dorian’s cock was pressed against him instead.

“Sit on it,” Bull said, voice as inexorable as the mountain. “Come on puppy, time to show us what you’re good for.” His hands were on Cullen’s hips, Dorian’s were on his shoulders, he was held and cherished and taken care of, and he didn’t have to do anything at all except what was asked of him.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he obeyed.

The push of Dorian into him shot lightning bolts of pleasure through his aching body. It wasn’t so much an iron will that kept him from coming so much as it was the complete _subsumption_ of his will. He was helpless as he sank down, helpless as he was breached, opened, filled. Helpless to do anything but moan and fall fall _fall_ into Dorian’s body. He was vaguely aware of the noises he was making - rough groans, choking gasps into Dorian’s wet mouth as Dorian kissed him, biting at his lips and murmuring in a mixture of Common and Tevene. And behind them, above them, around them was Bull, relentless, immovable. 

“Good boy,” the low rumble, shaking him like an earthquake. “That’s perfect, both of you are perfect, shit. Could just sit here all night and watch.”

That made Dorian laugh, ragged and broken, into Cullen’s mouth. “Lazy,” he said, fondly. “Come up here, amatus. Let us make you feel good.”

“You and the pup?” Cullen could barely follow, the slick slide of Dorian fucking into him stealing his senses. He was half bounced, muscles slack and screaming, and half rocked with the force of Dorian’s thrusts. Bull’s hands were on him, and then they weren’t, but it didn’t matter because Dorian’s were all over. Slipping through the sweat on his back, down to his ass to squeeze him in tighter, running up the thick muscle of his thigh. 

“You feel amazing darling,” Dorian murmured to him, low, painfully intimate. “So sweet around my cock. I’m going to keep you like this forever.”

“Yes, yes,” Cullen agreed blindly, stupid with sex. His wet dick was rubbing over the hard muscles of Dorian’s belly, catching in the dark hair there and smearing a slick trail of precome. The pressure in his ass was steadily building into a deep, rich pleasure that spread through his body like a slow fire. His fingers were in turns numb and tingling, he clutched at Dorian in desperation lest he be swept completely away.

“ _Never stop fucking me_.”

“Oh, puppy.”

Those grey eyes were like the ocean in a storm, or the ashes of what was left of Cullen’s heart after this _immolation_. Beautiful and deadly. 

And then, there was the Bull.

Cullen hadn’t noticed the shift in the bed, too wrapped up in Dorian and the pleasure Dorian was teasing out of his body. The grip on his collar startled him. He blinked up in confusion because Bull was suddenly _right there_ , one knee on the side of the bed next to Dorian’s head, and oh, sweet Andaste on her _flaming pyre_ , he was finally, gloriously naked.

“Decided to join us, Bull?” Dorian drawled as Cullen gaped, blinking up at the mountain of man towering up over them. The fingers on his collar tightened, tugged, and oh, Bull’s other hand was wrapped around his own cock and - 

“Please,” Cullen gasped, seeing it for the first time, _straining_ towards it. “ _Please_ , may I?”

It was huge.

Whatever Cullen had been imagining - and oh, imagine he had - was far surpassed by the reality of Bull before him, the thick, _fat_ cock, dark and dripping for _him_. 

“You know, Dorian, you could learn a lot about manners from this one,” Bull said, to Dorian’s rough laugh. 

“Please,” Dorian panted between the long, sweet rolls of his hips. “There’s only enough room in this bed for one hound.”

Cullen _whined_.

“Okay pup, here, lick for me. Lick it.” 

It was like a steel bar, but it tasted of salt and sweat and deep, _dirty_ musk. Cullen ran his tongue up the thick shaft, over Bull’s thumb on his way up to that plump head, lapping up the spill of precome, sucking it off the velvety skin. It was big, _big_ , ungainly even as Bull held it steady for him. Cullen wanted to choke on it.

“Please,” he mumbled, lips pressed against as much skin as he could manage. “Bull - ma-master. My mouth.”

“You see, that’s sweet,” Bull breathed. “Open up then, pup.”

The tears that were filling Cullen’s eyes overflowed as he opened his mouth as wide as he could because he _knew_ this part, knew what to do, what to _be_. Opened his mouth until his jaw popped and Bull could press the head in, rubbing it messy over his tongue, pushing slowly and withdrawing, just dipping it in. Cullen blinked away the tears and gazed up at Bull’s face, tried to put as much longing in his expression as he could, as much need. _Please,_ he thought, _please give it to me._

Bull twisted his fingers in Cullen’s collar and slowly, slowly drew him forward, onto the cock in his mouth, deeper, until his jaw ached and there was no room, he _couldn’t_ \- 

“Fuck,” Dorian cried, as Cullen gagged, whole body tensing and contracting, squeezing down tight. “Bull, do that again and I’m _not_ going to last.”

“That’s really hard to resist, Kadan,” Bull said, breathless. He pulled Cullen away and held him as Cullen gasped for air, strings of saliva drooling down his chin, tears streaking his cheeks. “You good, puppy dog?”

“More,” Cullen rasped and then, brave, “Choke me, _fill_ me, please.”

“Still so polite,” Bull said, even as he tugged Cullen back, pushing in a half inch further before Cullen gagged again, holding him there for an extra second before pulling away. “Yeah?”

Dorian had gone tight and hard all over, his grip on Cullen’s hips bruising as Cullen spasmed over him. “Oh fuck, amatus, ohhhh…”

“ _Fill_ me,” Cullen slurred. “I’m yours, do it.”

It was the third thrust that send Dorian over the edge, Cullen choking on the head of Bull’s cock, body jerking as Bull grabbed and held him for long, sweet seconds. Cullen could feel it, the heat of Dorian emptying into him, the flood of it, as Dorian arched his head back against the pillows and cried out, hips thrusting up viciously. His own cock was throbbing, leaking, red and hot and it would take a breath, a single word, for him to follow Dorian over that edge…

Bull pulled out, leaned down and kissed him, licking over the mess of his mouth and biting in. His teeth were too sharp, his tongue too big, there was something wholly inhuman about the Bull, because he _wasn’t_ human, Cullen had given himself over to a mage and a monster and it was the sweetest surrender of his life.

“My lover’s seed is dripping out of your ass,” Bull growled into his mouth, “And you look like you’re a heartbeat away from done. How do you want to end this, puppy dog?”

Cullen squeezed his eyes closed, the image of what he wanted stark and clear behind his lids. Rylen would know, Rylen always _knew_ , Rylen could just give Cullen what he needed without making him spell it out. 

But Rylen wasn’t here, the Bull was in his place, Dorian was in his place and they needed to hear him say it. They needed, apparently, to not make it _easy_ on him.

“Finish in me,” he whispered, voice cracked and harsh, eyes still closed. He thought of being in the chair, nights ago, unable to even answer their questions without hiding his face. He made himself open his eyes, look into the Bull’s. Sea green, beautiful, and far, far too knowing.

“Finish inside of me.”

A blunt claw found his lower lip, pushed it down. “In here?”

Dorian, fucked out and decadent beneath him, was watching avidly. He was panting, dick still held inside the tight clench of Cullen’s body, but he was shifting restlessly as if he were about to _change_ that, and Cullen made a small, desperate noise.

“No,” he said, frantic. “In - finish yourself in -” Sweet fucking Maker, how could he still be this shy? His mind felt like it was flying in a million directions at once, and _whatever_ Bull did, really, would be the perfect thing. Come on him, in his mouth, on Dorian for Cullen to lap up like the dog they’d made him… But there was an image that had kept him up at nights, a fantasy that was so deep and filthy and yet somehow, impossibly, possible in this moment, that he couldn't miss his chance.

He took a deep, ragged breath, and swiped his tongue of the pad of Bull’s thumb.

“Put the head of your cock to my hole, _master_ , and pleasure yourself until you finish inside me.”

Dorian below him, swore, in lengthy and elaborate Tevene. Bull just _smiled_.

“ _Good_ , pup,” he purred. “You really do just want to be used like a whore, don’t you?”

Cullen smiled back, cock twitching. “Yes, master.”

Neither of them could last long, after that.

Cullen was in a daze as Bull disappeared back behind him, crawling back on the bed and almost violently spreading Cullen’s thighs further than they already were. Dorian finally slipped out, but otherwise stayed where he was, arms languidly wrapped around Cullen’s neck, whispering sweet filth into Cullen’s ear. Bull slapped him again, just once, held him open, moaned long and low at the sight of Dorian’s spend dripping from his asshole. Cullen could feel himself twitching, feel the wetness, imagined what Bull was seeing and had to hide his face in Dorian’s shoulder as Dorian ran gentle fingers through his hair.

“He’s looking at the mess I made of you,” Dorian told him, murmuring in his ear. “And puppy, he’s about to make it worse.”

“ _Fuck_.”

The head of Bull’s cock pressing against the ruin of Cullen’s ass was almost enough to finally do him in. He cried out and instinctively pushed back, greedy for it, but Maker in his _city_ , it was too big, too much, it wasn’t going _in._ Bull just held him still and laughed as Cullen mindlessly tried to fuck himself back onto it and was denied.

“Oh shit, puppy dog, look at you writhing for my prick like the greedy whore you are,” he said warmly, as Dorian petted his neck, his shoulders, kissed his ear. “You’ve been sweet as pie, lad, but I’m not fucking you tonight. You’ve gotta work yourself up to that.”

“I need - I need -”

“Yeah, lad, I know what you fucking need.”

He was held, captured, as the plump, round thickness of that impossible cockhead was pressed to him again, not popping in, just holding. And then, with his free hand, Bull started to jerk himself off.

Cullen collapsed forward against Dorian’s body, held up only by Bull’s other hand at his hips. He was close, close, oh Maker fuck, and he could hear Bull panting behind him as he worked that fucking enormous prick, ready to empty himself inside Cullen like he - like he wasn’t even a real person, like he was nothing, just a place for Bull to spill.

“I’m coming,” he gasped. “Oh, please, I’m going to-”

“Sure, pup,” Bull grunted, dismissive, the whole bed shaking with the pumping of his fist. “Do it.”

Cullen nearly screamed into the smooth, damp skin of Dorian’s shoulder, cock skittering along the taut line of Dorian’s stomach, slotting into the sharp groove leading from his hips to his groin. Everything was too wet, too hot, too close, and Bull wasn’t letting him rut like he needed to, hand hard and implacable at his waist to keep him still. 

“Please, please,” he cried, so _close_ , the crest building and building, unable to break. He was desperate, frantic, all he could see and hear and breathe was the need they’d poured into him until he was filled to bursting. “Fuck, _please_.”

“I’ve got you,” Dorian soothed, and oh yes, snaked a hand between them, angle awkward and perfect, just enough to cup his palm over the wet, throbbing head of Cullen’s cock. “Come on, be a good dog for us now.”

“Shit, yes,” Bull groaned at all most the same time. “Take it, take it inside-“

And with the flood of Bull’s come spurting into him, Cullen felt the wave finally break, crashing through him like the high tide, filling him down to his fingertips, down to his toes. Bull was moaning behind him, digging bruises into Cullen’s skin as he came, Dorian was still whispering beneath him, wet and hot and filthy now with Cullen’s come. And Cullen was caught, and held, and still, somehow, floating for long, sweet seconds, until time itself meant nothing at all.

The room smelled of sweat and sex.

The fire crackling in the corner was the only sound apart from their heavy breathing as they paused, took stock, tried to come down. Cullen let himself sink further into Dorian’s body, just for a moment, as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. The aftershocks of his orgasm were still singing through him, shooting pleasure through his muscles, his spent cock, and if he had his way he wouldn’t move for at least a week. Dorian, stretching languidly beneath him, one arm still hooked around his shoulders, seemed to agree.

“Filthy,” he murmured appreciatively, then, “Ugh, I think I got the brunt of it.”

“What isn’t dripping out of Cullen’s ass, yeah,” Bull shot back, sounding tired and satisfied in a way that made Cullen’s heart swell, even through his embarrassment. He could feel it, their combined spend leaking out of him, open to the Bull’s view as he lay atop Dorian, still straddling his hips. About to leak onto Dorian, he realised with a guilty start, if he didn’t move soon. He should - the polite thing would be to get up, apologise, find a cloth and some water.

“Sweet _Maker_ ,” is what he said instead, and let himself untangle his legs just enough to slip to the side, onto his back, where he lay staring at the ceiling. “ _And_ his bride.”

“If we broke Cullen the boss is gonna be pissed,” Bull commented and Cullen lifted his head just enough to see him still kneeling in the middle of the bed, head dropped back in exhaustion as his massive chest heaved. His cock, spent, was still half hard, resting wet and dark over his thigh. Despite his own exhaustion Cullen licked his lips, and Dorian huffed out a tired laugh.

“I know the feeling, Cullen, but if you want round two you’re going to have to give us some time to recover, I’m afraid.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bull tried to leer, reaching slowly over to the bedside table for a flagon of, presumably, water. “I’m good to go.”

“Good to go to sleep, old man,” Dorian replied, and hauled himself up onto an elbow, surveying the mess. “Well shit.”

Cullen shook his head and slumped back down. “Round two? _This_ year?”

They both laughed at that and he smiled to himself at the sound. Could grow addicting, that combined laughter. Dangerous.

“Well Commander Rutherford, you’ve certainly acquitted yourself commendably,” Dorian said and slapped the back of his hand onto Cullen’s stomach. “That was marvellous.”

Bull lifted his head enough to smile down on him, his mouth soft and his eye watchful. “That was _great_ ,” he said, with feeling. “You good? You with us?”

“I.” Cullen paused and licked his lips. Assessing. He _was_ good. Still floating, but their banter was helping ground him in a way he hadn’t experienced before, washing over him gently and bringing him back to earth. He still needed...time, time to breathe, to think, to recover. But he was happy.

“Yes,” he finished and let his smile grow. “I’m good.”

Bull grinned back.

Beside him, Dorian was hauling himself up, quietly complaining, without heat, about the mess. He fetched a towel and some water and Bull half-heartedly tried to tug the soiled blanket from beneath them without getting off the bed. Cullen rolled where he was directed, submitted himself quietly to Dorian’s perfunctory wipe down. They chattered quietly between themselves, didn’t ask anything of him, touched him softly and often.

He found himself missing Rylen, but perhaps not quite as much as he’d expected.

“You know,” he murmured, when he and Dorian were dressed again in smallclothes (his a little wrinkled and wet, making him blush), “This was not entirely what I expected.”

Bull was in Cullen’s chair, slumped out in nothing but his trousers, long legs seeming to cross half the room. “Yeah?”

Cullen touched at the collar still surrounding his neck. He didn’t, yet, want to take it off, didn’t want the tangible evidence that the night was over. 

“Maybe next time…” he hesitated, unsure, marvelling at his boldness. They just looked at him, expectant, and he thought, _yes, next time, there will be a next time_.

“Maybe next time you _will_ make me bark.”

“Oh _pup_ ,” Dorian crooned, and leaned in to kiss Cullen’s head, his sweaty curls, the red of his cheeks. “Count on it.”

Cullen leaned into the touch under Bull’s watchful gaze and thought that maybe he would.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to harass me about when the next chapter will be finished, you are welcome to do so on twitter: @queenie_galore or tumblr: queeniegalore! Or you could be nice to me instead, I'm so Tired


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